


Assumptions about Michelle Jones: Help

by RedUmbrella89



Series: Who is Michelle Jones? [4]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Michelle Jones Character Study, Michelle Jones Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Sick Michelle Jones, Spideychelle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 12:57:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21299837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedUmbrella89/pseuds/RedUmbrella89
Summary: Michelle was someone who liked to believe she could do everything on her own. It was her thing to be independent, self-sufficient and strong. And independent, self-sufficient, strong people didn’t need help...except Michelle suddenly found herself in a position where she would really, really appreciate some help. Was that too much to ask?
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: Who is Michelle Jones? [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1477616
Comments: 15
Kudos: 84





	Assumptions about Michelle Jones: Help

**Author's Note:**

> This story took me aaaaages! I started writing it over a month ago but it took a lot of rewrites to get it to a point where I wanted to post it so sorry it took a while for a new part. Thank you for the appreciation for this series, it makes my day every time a kudos come through :)

Michelle was someone who liked to believe she could do everything on her own. It was kind of her thing to be independent, self-sufficient and strong. And independent, self-sufficient, strong people didn’t need help...except Michelle suddenly found herself in a position where she would really, really appreciate some help. Here was the situation – Michelle was ill. Her body ached, her throat felt raw and she was somehow both freezing cold and boiling hot at the same time. Worst of all though was that no one was there to look after her. Not that she needed it – she was Michelle, independent, self-sufficient, feeling like shit Michelle – but even she could admit that, right now, it would have been nice to have someone help her out.

It was pushing 4pm when Michelle emerged from her bedroom to find some medicine. She had slept through the entire day. The apartment was cold - unsurprising as it was January - but it didn't help her confused body; the internal shivers intensified while her hot skin rejoiced at the contact of cold air.

Slowly, oh so slowly, Michelle finally made it to the medicine cabinet. Yanking it open she fumbled through the mess of pain killers, plasters, and hay fever tablets...everything except what she needed.

"No..." Michelle whined as she rested her forehead against the wall mirror. She wasn't one for whining – and would vehemently deny that she had ever made such a noise – but right now, you bet your ass she was whining. 

Why did they not have any flu medicine? Michelle was convinced in this moment that she had the worst parents in the world. Surely part of the whole parental duty was to make sure your children were always fully catered for, including the provision of medicinal drugs. On top of that, her mum had left her alone! Michelle knew she couldn't be mad at her mum, the woman would have stayed with her daughter if Michelle had only asked, but the stubborn part of Michelle hadn't wanted to have to ask; she wanted her mum to stay of her own accord. Michelle sighed. Maybe that was the downside of being so self-sufficient all the time – people didn’t think you ever needed help, so they never offered any. In Michelle’s case even to the point where, half passed out, she was left on her own.

A wave of dizziness hit Michelle and she gripped the sink. She could text her mum and ask her to stop by the drug store on her way home, but she wasn't due back for several hours yet. Perhaps she could message one of her...what, friends? Michelle stared at herself in the mirror as she thought through her list of 'friends'. Friendly acquaintances was a more accurate term and that only extended to the decathlon team. Of course, there was one person she knew for definite who would come to her aid - because of course he would, he would help anyone, friend or not - but Michelle dismissed that idea. She was feeling far too vulnerable to try and navigate any interaction with Peter right now.

Michelle could see the sweat on her skin, her pale face, the hair that was plastered to her neck – ew – and she knew she couldn't wait hours for medicine. A violent shiver that had her teeth chattering confirmed it. Michelle splashed her face with some warm water and headed back to her room. Gingerly she dressed in anything warm and easily accessible. When she was finished Michelle was wearing two cardigans, leggings, jogging bottoms, one - maybe two? - pairs of fluffy socks, some fingerless gloves and some sort of woolly hat. Shuffling out into the hall she grabbed her coat, pulled on her boots and headed towards the front door. This was going to take all her resolve and flu-addled brain power. Swallowing down a hit of nausea Michelle yanked open the door and braved the outdoors.

It was a mistake, a horrible mistake, Michelle thought as she wandered along the aisles of the drugstore. She wasn't even sure how she had made it to the shop, her feet taking her there on autopilot. 

"Do you need some help?" A friendly voice asked from beside her. Michelle glanced over at the shop assistant.

'Yes, please god,' Michelle thought.

"I need..." Michelle waggled a finger along the row of medicine bottles, hoping that it was enough to articulate what she required. Michelle was feeling so rough that she just wanted to cry and go to sleep right on the shop floor. Who even cared anymore?

"Drowsy or non-drowsy?" The assistant asked.

"I'm very drowsy," Michelle responded.

The shop assistant smiled kindly and plucked a bottle from the shelf.

"This one should help you feel a bit better but make sure you drink lots of fluids and let your body rest," the assistant said as she led Michelle to the register.

Michelle nodded and paid, only vaguely aware of how much she was spending. The lady was handing Michelle her receipt when a violent cough suddenly racked her body. Instinctively Michelle covered her mouth with one hand while the other clutched at her chest. Michelle looked apologetically at the assistant. "Sorry."

The assistant just smiled again and waved away Michelle's apology. "I hope you feel better."

Michelle just nodded and left the shop, her legs once again guiding her on autopilot. Not too far from the pharmacy Michelle spotted a fruit and veg stall where a large mound of oranges caught her eye. Her mum had always said that they were good for colds. Something to do with the citrus or vitamins or...whatever. 

Michelle ordered twelve and hovered quietly while the grocer took forever to pack the bag. When he finally handed them over Michelle was imagining crawling back into her bed and staying there until Summer. Her mind was so distracted by the thought of blankets and sleep that she didn't register the bag being placed in her arms, didn’t hear his disinterested 'bye' and she didn't see the patch of ice ahead of her. 

Michelle slipped and she fell, hard, landing awkwardly on her side. Her vision swam and she lay back, waiting for the world to right itself, ignoring the freezing cold water seeping through her clothes. Tears stung her eyes as she let herself feel all the shivers, the body aches and the complete mental exhaustion. Her body was yelling at her to just stop but she knew she couldn't stay lying on the ground, so Michelle forced herself to sit up.

Her oranges had spilled out of the bag and rolled away. Rising to her knees, Michelle began to gather them up. Absently she noticed people sidestepping her as they walked by. A strong wave of sadness washed over her. Seriously, was everyone just going to walk by? Michelle sniffed loudly, suddenly feeling utterly disappointed in her fellow man. Could she just get a little help? Was that really too much to ask?

Michelle was reaching for an orange when a red hand suddenly appeared and picked it up. Surprised, Michelle looked up. Crouched beside her was Spiderman, robotic eyes squinting, his hand holding out the orange to her. Slowly Michelle took it from him, her eyes never leaving his mask. There was a good part of her that believed she might be hallucinating. 

"Thanks," she mumbled, watching as he collected the rest of the fruit and packed her bag. Getting to her feet Michelle stood awkwardly as Spiderman watched her, cradling her groceries to his chest.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "You don't look so good."

"Thanks?"

Spiderman 'heh'd out a laugh and Michelle was struck by a sudden jolt of familiarity. She'd heard a similar breathy huff of amusement like that before...

"I meant," Spiderman continued before she could dwell on it. "You look a little under the weather and, if you don't mind me saying so, not entirely steady on your feet. Let me carry these for you."

"I only live a couple blocks down..."

"Perfect."

Spiderman adjusted the weight of the bag and hovered, clearly waiting for her to lead the way. Michelle blinked. She had meant for her comment to be a dismissal - her apartment was only a few blocks away, so he didn't need to accompany her. That's what she'd said, right? Man, she felt rough.

Taking a step Michelle indicated the direction they needed to go. "Okay...um, this way."

He followed her diligently and Michelle could feel the awkwardness radiating off her; she was just casually walking down the street with a superhero while he carried her fruit. Was there any way for it not to be awkward?

Michelle believed he must be feeling it too since she could see him constantly looking over at her, but he didn't say anything. Michelle felt very relieved when they reached her apartment building.

"Well...thanks," Michelle said as he handed over her bag. "For the help."

"No problem."

Michelle gave him a weak wave and turned to head inside when he suddenly spoke again.

"Hey, be careful out on your own, especially after dark. There can be some unsavoury characters around, and I'd hate for you to be...a target."

"But don't we have good ‘ole Spidey to protect us now?" Michelle asked, unable to suppress the jibe.

He laughed softly. "Well, until they perfect cloning technology and I can have 100 of me on these streets, I appreciate any help people can give me."

Michelle couldn't help it, she smiled. "I can understand that. Your concern is noted Spiderman."

With that Michelle left him standing on the sidewalk and entered the stifling foyer of her apartment block. Now that she was on her own again Michelle's focus immediately shifted back to how shit she was feeling. Her thoughts became focused on one thing only: bed.

When she finally snuggled back under the covers, dosed up to high heaven on flu medicine, Michelle wondered once again if her encounter with Spiderman had been a hallucination, or a dream; it was certainly bizarre enough to qualify. She was on the cusp of nodding off when her phone buzzed and jerked her awake. In a haze of half sleep Michelle looked at the screen. Shining back at her was the last thing Michelle expected to see: a message from Peter Parker.

'Hey, heard you weren't feeling well. Hope you get better soon :)'

Michelle felt her eyes well up as she read Peter's message. He was the only one who had contacted her all day. Michelle didn't know if she and Peter really qualified as friends, but his kindness tipped Michelle's already fragile emotions over the edge. In the morning she would one hundred percent blame her tears on the flu but right now, Michelle hugged her phone to her chest and prayed that it wasn't a dream after all.


End file.
